


You Can’t Get Rid Of The Babadook (And Years Of Unresolved Sexual Tension)

by deaneatscake



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Case Fic, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unsafe Sex, also basically zero angst because we deserve this, no queer people are dying in this fic isn't this great, yes this is the babadook crossover no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 09:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11228391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deaneatscake/pseuds/deaneatscake
Summary: When the queer community accepts the Babadook as their new found icon, they accidentally create a Tulpa that starts killing homophobic people. Of course, Team Free Will rises to the occasion.





	You Can’t Get Rid Of The Babadook (And Years Of Unresolved Sexual Tension)

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This is set somewhere unspecific in canon, but Cas is human.  
> 2\. I have honestly no idea what’s up with Pride in the USA so I chose a fictive scenario in a fictive town in order to not offend anyone, so have a very gay town with a full week of pride festivities!!!  
> 3\. I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH BUT NO LGBTQ+ PEOPLE ARE DYING IN THIS FIC BECAUSE I’M SICK OF THAT Y’ALL

“Ok, so get this.”

Dean sighs. He’s sitting at the war table, his leg that’s still hurting from the last hunt they just got back from propped up on the table. Cas is in the bathroom, trying to wash out a wound they only put a makeshift bandage on (he didn’t want help, it’s not Dean’s fault) and then there’s Sam, notebook in his lap, already looking for what seemed like a new case for them. Couldn’t they get a few days rest for once?

Okay, honestly it’s not like Dean could blame him. If he was Sam, he probably too wouldn’t want to be holed up in the bunker for far too long with just the company of his brother and an ex-angel who both can’t get their heads out of their asses.

The way they tip-toe around each other (or maybe it’s just Dean and he’s over-projecting) every day, be it at breakfast – the kitchen is not very small, not by a long shot, but somehow still small enough to constantly accidentally bump into each other – or at night during movies – the last time he sported an inappropriate boner in his brother’s bed was jarring enough – is enough to drive Dean mad on a good day so he can only imagine how bad it must be for Sam (and he really, really hopes that he hadn’t noticed the boner. There is only so much you can let your little brother see and being gay for an ex-angel isn’t _anywhere_ on the list).

“Dean!”

“…what, Sammy? Can’t we just have day off for once?!” Nevertheless, Dean’s kind of annoyed. Because hunting means having two separate rooms at a motel and no real excuse to bump into Cas late at night for… reasons and this is the only thing _Dean has, okay_? He can’t actually go to Cas and tell him _“Yeah you know what, actually I’m bi and I think you’re hot and hopelessly cute and_ _you saved me more times than I can count and_ _I think I’m in lovewithyouwillyougoonadatewithme?_ ”, can he? Life’s not that easy.

“I would love to, but this seems like we’re on a tight schedule here. Have you listened to _anything_ I said?” Sam lets out an exasperated huff.

“Yeah actually, no. Try again?” He smiles his most innocent smile knowing well it will work, if only because Sam obviously really wants to take his this case.

“Dude… okay, here’s the thing. There’s this… huge pride thing going own in Washington, Colorado. Like a full week of going around in parades and doing tours and stuff. Today’s the third day and the second night they found someone dead, throats slit in their own basement. Sounds suspicious enough?”

Dean shrugs. “What’s that got to do with us? Maybe some people think the anonymity of such a huge thing is a good time to go on a killing spree?”

As an answer, the notebook gets shoved in his face. “Maybe, but look at this: the daughter of the first victim swears her father had called her before his death and told her that there were some dark shadows in the basement and he couldn’t get rid of them. So maybe it’s… I don’t know, a vengeful ghost or something? But it seems clearly connected to this pride week, so if we don’t get there in time we’ll maybe have to wait a whole year before we can get the thing again.”

“Okay, so weird shadows slitting the throats of some unsuspecting dudes. Fine, I’ll take it. Let me get Cas and we’re on our way. But after that I definitely want like, a whole week off and do some stuff that’s not hunt-related for once. My leg fucking hurts. 

Sam rolls his eyes and takes the notebook back, hammering god-knows-what into the poor keyboard.“Sure, we can all go to the final parade if we manage to kill the ghost in time. That’ll be fun,” he mutters, seemingly absentminded.

So, it’s kind of like this: Dean has standards, okay, so he doesn’t reply to Sam’s comment _at all_ and instead gracefully makes his way out of the war room and is definitely not bumping into anything on his way out because he’s too distracted by Sam’s words. It’s not _Dean’s_ fault they’ve never talked about this topic, okay, and he can’t very well start now, after almost 20 years, admitting something so big and basically changing his whole life and surely Sam understands that?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

As luck has it, Cas is still in the bathroom where some suspicious sniffing noises are emerging from the door. Dean tries to knock and swears he can hear a very grumpy sounding “Come in”, so he tries the handle and finds out Cas hasn’t locked the door – _again_. Thankfully, this time he’s sitting almost fully clothed on the toilet lid and not shaving himself completely naked (not any private parts, mind you. He actually had the idea that shaving his beard off naked was more efficient because “I don’t like those little hairs on my clothes, it takes ages to peel them all off” - “Cas, this is – this is NOT how you do this, okay? Jesus!”).

With only the sleeve of his right shirt rolled up, Cas desperately tries to put a clean bandage on his forearm, courtesy of a nasty wendigo scratch but he only seems to hurt himself even more in the process so naturally Dean takes pity on him and kneels down next to Cas.

“Let me do this,” he simply says and takes the bandages out of Cas’ hands. “You could have called me, you know. I thought you were just washing the wound.”

“I didn’t” – Cas sucks in a sharp breath when Dean starts wrapping the bandages tightly – “Want to be a burden. You fix your own bandages all the time.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been doing this since I was a little child, so that doesn’t count. And Sam’s also really bad at this. This moose’ so big he can’t even reach half of his body.”

It’s a bad joke and not even remotely true, but when Dean detects a sly smile at the corner of Castiel’s mouth, he fights the urge to start to preen. Stupid love and… stuff. It’s exhausting enough to always look after Sam, but adding another person to the mix (one he wouldn’t be averse to have sex with) is even worse. He just can’t see Cas hurt, confused or sad and he would go to terrifying lengths to put a smile on Cas’ lips.

Dean tries to work as fast and painless as he can without touching Cas too much because he is really painfully aware that they’re alone in a bathroom and _he could maybe just take him and pin him against that toilet tank and_ _show him what else he could do on his knees and_ _it would be a little bit gross but also actually very hot_ –

He clears his throat. Stupid love and sexual attraction and stuff. It’s too damn late for him to actually control his dirty mind. “Okay, so, we have this new case in Colorado,” he says as he carefully adjust the two bandage clips, trying to sound as non-aroused as possible. “Some people are getting murdered and Sammy thinks it might be a case. We have to get out there, soon, cause he thinks we’re on a tight schedule. There you go, buddy.”

“Thanks,” Cas answers quietly and inspects his bandages. Then he looks Dean in the eye and the sad look in his face is heartbreaking, okay? Dean gulps and anxiously awaits what comes next. To be honest, he’s always prepared that some day Cas will just show up in his room and say _Dean, I have something_ _important t_ _o tell you_ and Dean’s heart will beat so fucking fast because he thinks _Oh shit this is it, our first kiss_ but then Cas will sigh and say _I’m leaving because I hate your company_ and – yeah maybe he’s a bit overreacting here because Cas says no such thing.

Instead, he says: “I was hoping to watch a movie with you tonight. You wanted to show me Guardians of the Galaxy, remember?”

 _Of course he fucking remembers._ He has looked forward to that for days. But of course saying that is not an option.“Yeah, sure, buddy” – sometimes Dean wonders if he should just stop calling him buddy because he’s almost certain he’s not fooling anyone – “Maybe we can just take that with us and watch it at the motel or something. Or watch it after the case. It wasn’t that important anyway.”

Cas tilts his head. “I think it’s very important,” he says. “I was looking forward to that for days.”

Well, there goes his argument that he can’t possibly say that. Suddenly, Dean is very aware that he’s still kneeling in front of Cas on the dirty bathroom floor, still kind of fondling the hurt arm and he stands up abruptly. There’s no way he can stay in here any longer, but he still has to say it, _come on, say it, godfuckingdamnit._

“Well you know how Sammy is when he’s seen a case. Sorry man, I was –” _You can do it, just do it_ , screams a voice in his mind. “I was also looking forward to that. OKAY so we’re leaving in an hour right? Later.”

With that, he storms out of the bathroom and maybe he leaves a confused Cas behind but this is standard behavior ever since Cas became human so – _yeah_. Cas’ll know what to do, they’re playing this game for long enough now.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It’s only a short drive to Washington but both Sam and Cas still manage to give Dean multiple heart attacks. Sam in the passenger seat is still looking up information on that case and well, they got almost jack shit on the deaths so instead he pesters both Cas and Dean with details of the whole Pride thing – _“Did you know that they’re also offering a guided museum tour about queer people’s achievements in history that were written out because they were queer?”_ and _“Hey, look, you can even buy Pride flags there! I don’t even know most of them, wow”_ – and what’s even worse, _Cas indulge_ _s_ _him._

“Yes, the human sexuality is really a fascinating spectrum,” Cas says, casually, as if it’s not something to get multiple panic attacks about. “You’d be surprised how many important historical figures actually were gay, bisexual or something else. I was there, I’ve seen everything.” He scrunches up his nose and it’s fucking cute and Dean can’t help to look rear view mirror in order to see his adorable face although he’s talking about stuff he never ever wants to talk about.

“A lot of them were closeted for great portions of their life. But as soon as they thought they could get away with it they disclosed their true orientations. Of course, at that time no one actually listened to them anymore. It could be as late as on their death bed that they confessed their presumed sins.” With that, Cas puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean startles. He’s _not_ ready to confess his _presumed sins._ Maybe he could drive them in a ditch if he absolutely _ha_ _s_ to tell Cas all about his adventures with men, he could _maybe_ bear saying it on his death bed –

“Dean, can you stop at the next rest stop? I need to pee.”

Oh. Okay, then.

They stop, of course, using the opportunity to already change into their fed suits and buy some more snacks for the road. When they get back into the car Dean takes Sam’s notebook and puts it in the trunk because he’s reasonable. The rest of the drive is silent because Sam is moping and Cas is sensing that he should stop speaking about queer history, instead sucking obscenely on the straw of the juice pack he bought and maybe that’s not actually better, Dean thinks.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When they arrive in Washington the pride festivities seem to be in full swing. They see at least a few hundred people in various stages of undress with lots of glitter and huge flags which seems to be normal for this kind of thing but still impressive to see up close.

“Okay, since you took away my notebook” – Sam blows a raspberry at that – “I’ll have to look up the location of the morgue again. Maybe you and Cas can already interview the daughter of the first victim? I got her address. I can get us checked in in a motel in the meantime, I think you can talk to, ehm, Felicitas Taylor, alone, it’s only a few blocks from here.”

It sounds equally parts terrifying and exhilarating to drive with Cas through the festivities and Dean’s unsure whether to agree or flip Sam off, but Cas beats him to it and takes the address out of Sam’s hands.

Since that’s settled, they start the short drive to the apartment block Felicitas Taylor is apparently living in. Cas is sitting shotgun now and looking at his badge intently.

“Who’s Gamora?” he asks. “You always use so many Pop Culture references, do you choose them for the occasion or at random?”

Dean thinks about his own Agent-Quill-Badge and shudders. “Ehm… random?” It’s not really a question. “Or, I dunno, sometimes the characters fit better to – someone specific, you know. But really, no reason. And um, Gamora is, you know, she’s a character in Guardians of the Galaxy. I’m sorry you are the girl but I think Agent Rocket would have been a little bit suspicious, you know, so…”

“I don’t mind being ‘the girl’, Dean,” Cas answers earnestly and tucks the badge back into his pocket. “Angels don’t really have genders as you humans do and even if they had, I don’t see any problem with being a girl.”

“Yeah, well, I just, I meant – forget it man, I’ll show her to you when we’re watching Guardians, okay?”

They drive the rest of the way with Cas looking at the Pride goers who occupy nearly every part of the city. Occasionally, they comment an especially cool or hideous outfit until they come across a figure Dean is pretty sure he has never seen before in the LGBT community (and he has, he has to admit, seen a lot).

“Why is this black creature walking there? Isn’t the point of Pride to be as colorful as possible?” Cas wonders.

“Dunno, maybe he’s some kind of… BDSM dude? No idea, man.”

“But he’s wearing ordinary fabrics. I always thought BDSM was more like… leather and latex.”

 _No, Dean will not ask how the fuck Cas knows this._ “Yeah, no idea, man. Let’s just dri –” but Cas interrupts him, screaming out of the window.

“Hey, who are you?”

And believe it or not, the dude in black actually turns around. His face is painted completely white and looks really distorted. “THE BABADOOK”, he screams back. “NICE CAR! YOU WANT TO DITCH IT FOR ME?”

“The – what?” Cas looks genuinely confused. Dean, not jealous at all, speeds up and tries to get as much distance between him and the weird Babadude as he can.

“Don’t mind him, man, Pride is crazy. We’re almost there.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The apartment block looks cheap, but not too shabby. The door to the building is open so they make their way up into the second floor and knock at door 27.

A young woman opens the door to the apartment, dressed in an oversized shirt and plaid boxer shorts. She doesn’t look particularly affected by the death of her father, instead opting for eyeing them warily.

“Agent Quill, Agent Gamora” – Dean swears he can see the eyebrows of the woman twitching but decides to ignore it – “We have some questions for you because of the death of your father, Randall Taylor?”

Realization dawns on her. “Oh, you want to talk to Fel. I’m Beth, her fiancé. Let me get her. Please wait here, Agents.” With that, she slams the door in their faces.

While she’s gone, Dean leans over to Cas and whispers: “Fiancé, hm? So maybe we already have a motive for the spirit.”

A few minutes later Beth, now dressed in a flowery summer dress, opens the door again. Next to her is a brown-haired woman who looks like she has cried for the last few days – Felicitas.

“Ms. Taylor, hello. Agent Quill, Agent Gamora, we have some questions because of the death of your father?” Dean repeats. Felicitias nods and indicates for them to come him.

She settles down on a small leather couch – Beth immediately sits down next to her – and points to two chairs at the dining table. “Please, sit down. I’m sorry we don’t have something more comfortable, but it’s – yeah.” She tries a smile and fails miserably.

Cas is the first to sit down and moves other the chair to the two women, carefully balancing the distance between near enough to come across as sympathetic and far enough to not look like a total creep.

“Ms. Taylor, we have heard that you told the police that your father has called you before his death. Can you tell us more about it?”

Beth puts a hand on Felicitas’ shoulder and strokes it reassuringly. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she whispers. “You can tell them.”

“Well… I – you know I haven’t actually talked to him in, like, _years_. But he saw me at Pride and then he called me when we came back. So we talked a little bit, and turns out he was still a – a –”

“A homophobic asshole,” Beth chimes in. “It’s okay, you can tell them the truth. Just cause he’s dead doesn’t mean you have to sugarcoat it.”

“Yeah, that. So anyway, he then suddenly said that someone was watching him right now and I was asking to you know call the police but he said no, they will think he’s mad because this person was in the shadows. But he was so _sure_ than someone was hiding there and then he said the shadow went into the basement and he wanted to take a gun and confront it and – and then he just hung up. That was the last I’ve heard of him.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Dean watches Cas who is listening intently, not taking his eyes off of Felicitas.

“Ms. Taylor, if it’s not too personal, may I ask you why your father hasn’t contacted you in years? Why do you think he started now?” Cas finally asks.

Felicitas shrugs. “It probably has to do with the fact that I’m gay,” she answers and the smile she shows this time is somewhat genuine. “I told him I have a girlfriend and he kicked me out. Stopped supporting me, never talked to me again. But I have honestly no idea why he called me yesterday. He did seem a little bit out of his mind though.”

“I could have told you that when he kicked you out.” Beth can barely contain her anger when she addresses the two men. “Honestly, you don’t even _know_ what a shithead he was. We’re lucky we found this flat and both have great jobs, but he was such an – I’m sorry, Fel, but he really _was_. He’s dead now and I _still_ get upset thinking of him.”

Cas and Dean look at each other, silently communicating. Dean’s pretty sure that’s everything they can get from the two – and that they may have a solid lead on potential motives. There’s only one more thing to ask, but Dean’s unsure how to bring it up.

Thankfully, sensing Dean’s misery, Cas takes over again. “One last question. Have there been any strange death in the last years during Pride?”

“Not… not that I know of, no. I think someone commit suicide two years ago? But I’m really not sure. Why, do you think this is – is this some kind of serial killer? Is that why the FBI is interested in this?”

 _Well it’s a serial killer alright_ , Dean thinks, but on the outisde he tries his most charming smile. “No, no, no, of course not,” he assures them. “We’re just here because they recently changed some of the rules concerning hate crimes, you know. People dying during Pride, it’s a sensitive topic. No serial killer here at all.”

With that, it’s clear that the interrogation has come to an end and the two men quickly say their goodbyes. Back at the car, Dean takes out his phone to see if there’s a message from Sam yet – there is, telling them to _meet me at the morgue_.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what they would say if we told them that it probably was a serial killer, just not the kind they’re afraid of,” Cas muses as soon as they’re driving to the morgue. He has taken out his badge again and is looking at it and fumbling with it like a small child. It’s part adorable, part annoying.

“Well, there’s a good reason we don’t tell them until they absolutely have to know. And right now, they don’t. I think they’re safe, the ghost is probably some poor queer sap who got killed 20 years ago and now seeks revenge on homophobic assholes.”

“Hm,” is the only thing Cas replies for a long time. They drive in silence for almost the rest of the drive; it’s only when they’re turning into the drive way leading to the morgue when Cas speaks up again. “Do you think he deserved to die?”

Dean doesn’t answer.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Agent Drax,” Cas says with a sly smile as they step into the morgue. Sam is alone with the victim, another male in his thirties.

“So Dean already told you about his cool aliases?” Sam looks amused. “What did he told you about yours?”

“Actually, nothing,” Dean interrupts them. He definitely doesn’t need the two of them conspiring against him and Sam telling Cas about all the unresolved sexual tension between Peter and Gamora. “That has to wait until he has actually seen the movie. Don’t be a spoil sport. – So, what have we got here?”

“Well, we’ve only got one victim here now since Mr. Taylor has already been moved. This one here is Mr. Thomas Gable, owner of a hardware shop. Slit throat but no family or anyone else has called about him and talked something about shadows.”

“And I doubt they will.” A young black woman appears behind them. “Hailey Wright. I’m the coroner,” she introduces herself. “Normally we have like, a heart attack per month, so we’re a little busy here. It’s not actually that big of a town. But I see you’ve already made yourself comfortable?”

“It’s not a problem at all, Mrs. Wright,” Cas says. He’s smiling brightly and Dean feels a surge of pride. He has come so far, from awkwardly sitting next to Dean and Sam while interrogating – often times getting weird looks by the victims who thought he was creepy – to probably being able to manage a whole interrogation on his own. Not that Dean would want that, of course. _Buddy system_.

“What do you mean with ‘you doubt they will’?”

“Well… look, I don’t like talking bad about the dead, but this one” – she points to Mr. Gable – “Was a real old meanie. He had a hardware shop with two employees and then one of them came out as trans and he fired them _because he didn’t want people to think he was employing Drag Queens_. Yeah, that was actually what he said. Disgusting. I’m sorry.” She shrugs. “A lot of people stopped buying stuff from him. If it wouldn’t be for the other victim I’d be pretty sure that he just killed himself because a lot of people kind of hated him.”

They all look at the corpse now. Sure enough, his throat is slit, but it’s a very deep and unnatural looking cut. Dean doubts that a regular knife could have accomplished that – it looks much more like claw wounds but with only one claw.

“Did Mr. Taylor have the same injury?” he asks.

Hailey nods. “Yeah, basically a carbon copy. The wound is actually really strange, it’s not very smooth and also very deep. We don’t yet know what kind of knife the attacker has used.”

Sam shoots them a suspicious glare. “Mrs. Wright, have there been – at any time – similar murders?”

“Not that I know of. We’re a quiet town. I think we had three murders in the last 20 years.”

“Any murders because of sexual orientation?”

“Uhm – no, I don’t think so. As far as I know, every murder has been connected to some kind of domestic abuse, but they had all been married and I don’t think one of them had been secretly anything other than heterosexual.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Wright,” Cas says and reaches to shake her hand. “I think we can work alone from here.”

She smiles. “Sure thing, let me know when you’re down. I’m gonna write some reports.”

As soon as she’s gone, the three men look at each other. “This is all very weird,” Sam finally concludes. They don’t have much else to say.

“There still could be a murder, maybe more than 20 years ago. Or it’s a suicide because someone bullied them?”

“Maybe, but why the claw marks? I mean, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a knife. Not really the MO of a ghost.”

None the wiser, they decide to make a few pictures and head back to the motel to discuss their options for now.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The motel room Sam and Dean are occupying is actually very nice and roomy, they even have a huge table in one room. Sam has already used the opportunity to spread his laptop and a few books on it, along with a few takeout menus.

Cas sits down next to Dean on the bed – his utter disregard of personal space, as always, being both a blessing and a curse – and shrugs himself out of his suit jacket. ( _Why him_ , Dean thinks. _This was fucking unfair._ )

“I think we can be pretty sure that this is a revenge quest from a lonely spirit because of homophobia,” Sam thinks out loud while typing away on his notebook. “But I don’t know how we can find the spirit – or the next victim, if there even is one. I mean what the victims did was pretty harsh, so maybe it isn’t after your regular old homophobe.”

“Great, then we only have to find everyone in this town who ever kicked someone out of their home or life because they’re queer.” Dean sighs and lets himself fall back into the bed. It’s nice and fluffy and actually smells of something akin to fabric softener. “How can we do that? It’s not like they keep a public record on that?”

“Maybe we should just wait until tomorrow? It’s already getting late. I don’t think we will find out something else today.” Cas is rubbing circles on his knees now and Dean is starting to get distracted.

Sam shrugs. “I think I’ll try to read a little bit about the history of this town. I mean they’re very vocal with this Pride stuff, maybe there’s a reason for that and we can find our spirit. But you two can get me some takeout?”

“Sure, Sam,” Cas answers and is already standing up before Dean can even react. “Dean, are you coming?”

And of course he’s coming – not in the metaphorical sense though, sadly – because time off with Cas? He’ll always take that, even if it’s only to – well, Dean doesn’t know, watch snails in a tiny snail museum, or whatever. Thing is, he loves spending time with Cas and Cas at least eats some real food. They’ll probably sit down at the diner, eat a burger each, have a fun conversation and Sam can get his salad alone in misery for all he cares. Maybe that’s a bit harsh, but Dean has long since given up to encourage Sam to eat something else for a change. They all have their quirks and it’s not like Dean can be one to talk.

They settle down at a little restaurant at the market square and it’s surprisingly domestic, or at least Dean can tell himself that. Courtesy of Pride week there are actually quite a few same-sex couples in the fully packed joint and Dean can indulge in his tiny little fantasy that yes, of course he too is here with his boyfriend who is – _or was_ – an actual angel (he’s reasonably sure he could say that and not come across as weird, which is cool enough on it’s own).

As soon as they both choose their burgers they fall into an easy conversation. It’s always like this, especially when they’re alone. They find something to talk about – and sometimes, they just love to not talk at all – and it all feels so _easy_ , sometimes up to the point that Dean wonders if it would change anything at all if he just put his arm around Cas’ shoulders while they were vividly discussing _why Ned Stark’s death was actually a very important thing and not for shock value at all_.

It probably wouldn’t, so it’s terrifying.

They talk for a while until Cas remembers the weird black clothes guy they saw earlier. “What was his name again?” he asks. “Babadoob?”

“No idea, man,” Dean shrugs. “Why, you really think this was something real?”

“Well, obviously not _real_ , Dean, but maybe it is a comic figure or something like that. I just though that it was interesting because it doesn’t seem like a Pride thing at all. Maybe I should just google it.”

And this is what Cas does. Turns out, it’s not the Babadoob but the Babadook, and, as Cas reads out aloud it “has become a queer icon all over the internet because the streaming service Netflix accidentally placed the horror movie starring the Babadook in their LGBT section” (Dean idly wonders why he has never seen it there).

“During Pride month, the internet has shared lots of fan art, celebrating the Babadook and his first pride since his alleged coming out, for example stating that ‘if you erase bisexuals, he’ll erase you too’. He’s also found at many Pride parades all over the country as the LGBT community has happily adopted the sinister looking guy who was once assumed to be a symbol of depression. That’s… interesting. The depression certainly explains the black clothes.”

They get their burgers, but Cas can’t be stopped. “I actually think it’s a really cool idea to acclaim something so creepy looking as your own, you know? It also says in the article that some people think that this movie is legitimately about a coming out story because the Babadook basically stalks them as a shadow and then reveals himself, but the family keeps him in their basement because they can’t deal with it openly.”

“Well that kind of su – wait, what?” Dean almost chokes on his burger. “Did you say _shadows_ and _basement_?”

Cas’ eyes widen. “I… suppose I did.”

“Oh no. Cas, get that burger to go, we have to get back to Sammy.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Ok, Sam, listen to this. ‘The Babadook is initially a movie about coping with depression, but after being placed in the LGBT section, many people argue that this movie can also be seen as a coming out story: always lurking in the _shadows_ , seen but never acknowledged, and when he finally confronts the family with his otherworldness, he gets locked up in the _basement_.’ Does that ring any bells?”

Dean slams Cas’ phone on Sam’s keyboard.

“Uhm, this sounds suspiciously like it’s related to our case, but what the fuck does a movie have to do with it?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Dean sits down next to Sam while Cas, again, settles down on Dean’s bed and starts unpacking his burger. “It was Cas’ idea, by the way. All the credit goes to him.”

“That’s good to know, Dean.” Sam’s voice is only a tiny bit sarcastic. “But would you mind telling me what this actually is about?”

“Just read the whole article. Apparently some dudes on Twitter and Tumb – ler? Who the fuck knows, decided that the Babadook, a really creepy and very deadly monster from a horror movie, is the new queer icon for their Pride parades. And, I think, by doing so they have created a Tulpa that is now murdering people who try to erase members of the LGBT community. They even have fan art. Ask Cas.”

“This is horrifying, Is this was people actually do on the Internet?” Sam frowns at the phone and begins to type the words Babadook into his own search machine.

“Well, not everyone can just use it for research, Sammy.”

After a quick search, Sam leans back in his chair and sighs.

“This is bad, guys. Like really bad. Remember when we had this Tulpa, 10 years or so ago? Mordechai? Well, the internet was nothing back then. This is not comparable to this. This is _huge_ and all over the world. I have no idea how we can get rid of _that_.”

“What have you done with Mordechai?” Cas chimes in, munching on his burger.

“We burned down the house Mordechai was supposed to live in,” Sam explains. “No house, no urban legend. But you can’t _actually_ get rid of a Tulpa. You can just try to contain it by making it as harmless as possible. Or destroy the place it haunts. But that’s kind of difficult here because the Babadook doesn’t have a specific place. It’s only associated with Pride Month and the parades.”

“So there’s a chance he’ll only murder people during June?”

“Probably. I guess.”

Cas seems to think for a moment. “Maybe we should just… wait then?”

“Dude, no!” Dean exclaims. “I know that these guys were major douche bags but we can’t let them _all die_. That’s a bit harsh. Besides, what if the legend changes and it’s not about kicking queer people out anymore? Next day it could be all about people who make fun of the queer Babadook. We have to find a way to contain this idea.”

They go back and forth for a while, none the wiser, until Cas finally offers the idea that they should try to plant the idea of the peaceful nature of the Babadook who would actually never hurt people and just wants to educate them in everyone’s head.

“I mean, it would fit with the end of the movie, they kind of live in a state of co-existence? At least from what I’ve read. So maybe we can try to make him… less murderous?”

Dean lets out an annoyed huff. “Sounds great, but how the fuck do you want to accomplish that? Set up a Twitter account and scream into the void? It’s not like anyone knows us. Not anyone who doesn’t want to kill us, that is.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” Sam types out something on his notebook. “There’s a Parade tomorrow afternoon. We could try to get in and make some stuff, posters and flags with the Babadook. As far as I know, he has only murdered people here in Washington. So maybe if we start here with our educational crusade, we can actually change things.”

And so, just like that, it’s not like Dean has dreamed about this for more than 15 years, he is about to experience his first Pride parade. Easy as that.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“This is absolutely mortifying.”

Dean is standing in front of a mirror, trying on outfits that range from absurd to actually-kind-of-hot-but-not-something-he-would-want-to-wear-in-public. This time, he is dressed in some kind of overall with rainbow suspenders that looked cute on the leaflet but not so good on his own body.

“Yeah I don’t like it either, but we have to do something. They’ve found another body this morning.” Sam is sitting in a chair next to the changing cubicles, his outfit already in a bag. Needless to say, his outfit is suspiciously less… queer than any of the stuff Dean has tried on (even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he kind of wants to indulge in this, okay). He had chosen a light jeans shorts and a rainbow colored shirt because he is a reasonable person and doesn’t actually like dress-up as well as Dean does.

“Dean?” Cas’ voice comes from on the cubicles. “I appear to be stuck.”

“Ca – Jesus.” Dean’s cheek definitely don’t get pink, thank you very much. “Can’t you get out of this yourself?”

Cas had immediately decided that he wanted to do something to honor his ‘gender-nonconforming appearance of his old true form’ and had collected a huge mass of flowery dressed equal to the dress Beth had worn.Sam’s attempts to explain that while it was totally okay for Cas to wear dresses it probably wasn’t a good idea to look for it in a regular store because the cut would probably not fit his muscular body had gotten ignored and well, that was the result.

“I don’t understand why so many dresses have the zipper at the back. Humans aren’t supposed to be as flexible as that.”

Sam snorts. Come to think of it, Sam totally should have to deal with Cas and his zipper problem, Dean thinks grumpily, _but then again, he totally shouldn’t_.

“Dean? Please. I don’t – I don’t want to rip it.”

That’s it. Something in his brain fries. Dean has never been someone to enjoy cross-dressing (except, well, pink satin panties, but okay, this didn’t count and anyway he liked wearing it more than looking at other people wearing it, _so it didn’t count_ ) but just the thought of Cas wearing a fucking dress with fucking flowers on it _that is somehow so fucking tight that it could fucking rip_ – yeah, Dean is fucked. And not in the good way.

He tries to ignore Sam’s gleeful stare as he goes into the cubicle where Cas is waiting exasperatedly.

“I don’t get the fashion industry, Dean” – and he actually sounds like this is a conversation the genuinely wants to start – “There are so many stupid accessories that don’t accomplish anything while the really practicable things aren’t getting produced. And it’s not made in sizes for all.”

And the thing is, Dean would actually love to have this kind of conversation (it sounds like an interesting enough topic, even if he himself doesn’t have much experience with it other than being angry that his favorite flannel shirt producer got bankrupt a few years ago), but it’s a little bit hard because Cas looks actually really good in that dress and it’s distracting. It’s a deep red, with very small little yellow flowers, almost looking like dots, and a neckline that would be seriously revealing if it had been on an – albeit smaller – woman.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should write them a letter or something.”

“I would, but I don’t think I ever want to wear a dress again. My thighs are chafing. How do women do this?”

Dean fumbles with the zipper. “No idea, man, I think they wear tights or something.”

“Hmm.” Cas seems to actually think about this. “Maybe I could buy some. I have put on a dress that is actually fitting me and it _would_ be a shame if I couldn’t wear it.” He points to a navy blue, knee-long dress with white stripes.

“So you want to dress up as a sailor, eh?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s all good,” Dean gulps. With a sharp tug he manages to pull the zipper all the way down.

“Thanks, Dean. I think I can take it off myself now.”

Dean has probably never ran out of a cubicle so far _in all of his life._ In fact, he almost runs out of the store while still wearing the overall which leads to him actually buying that damn thing because he doesn’t want to admit that he’s made a mistake. Dean Winchester, everyone, doesn’t make mistakes. Especially not when he was just faced with the prospect of seeing Castiel, ex-Angel of the Lord, only in his underwear.

And if he wears a fucking overall that’s kind of too tight for him, well, then so be it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

After stopping at the motel, changing into their Pride outfits and picking up the posters that they made for this occasion (full of the best poetry they could muster, saying catchy slogans like ‘If you want to erase LGBT, he’ll erase your prejudices’ and ‘Love is in the ~~air~~ basement’ which is probably some kind of creepy pedophile slogan if they think about if for too long), they next stop at a small shop that claims to have “all flags existing in the world” and “a special delivery for Pride month”.

Sam has rightfully argued that they would probably fit better into the crowd if they chose different flags to tie around their necks, and it would also help with establishing the Babadook as a queer icon wanting to educate _e_ _veryone_ on _every_ possible gender and sexuality.

The shop owner is an older man that seems to already guess why they’re here – to be fair, it’s not that hard to guess – and points them to shelf full of flags in all different colors. “If there’s something specific you want I can always look up in the back,” he informs them. “I only have the most common out here, there are so many I could decorate my whole shop with them.”

“Okay, we’re a little lost here,” Dean says uncomfortably. Truth is, he knows exactly which flag he wants, but he doesn’t want to admit it and grab it right as he sees it. “See, this is our first Pride and we don’t know that much about the flags itself. Other than the rainbow one.” It’s a bad lie, but it’s as good as any.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I can help you with that,” the shop owner chirps. He eyes them for a while and then goes through the different flags. “We have of course the rainbow flag which is never a bad choice, but I suppose you don’t want that. Oooh, I know, we’ve got a few polyamory flags in the back, you could use these!”

“Polyamory?” Sam asks warily. Dean’s flushing again. Why does everyone assume they’re gay? Okay, it’s not that far off to assume they’re gay – they’re trying, okay – but does this dude seriously think he’s in a relationship with both Cas and _his brother_?

“Oh, you aren’t – oh I’m sorry, I just assumed, you just all work so natural together. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Cas assures the shop owner. “We all love each other very much.”

“CAS!” Dean almost screams. “NOT LIKE THAT.”

Cas looks at him with his standard head tilt. For a short moment Dean is utterly terrified that Cas actually thinks that they’re in some kind of creepy love triangle – not that Dean thinks there’s anything wrong with loving multiple people per se but Sam is his brother for fuck’s sake and _please don’t let Cas be sexually attracted to his brother_ – but then, thankfully (and also kind of sadly, because hey, he wouldn’t be opposed to Cas being attracted to _him_ ), Cas agrees.

“I do love you all, but I don’t want to be in a poly-amorous relationship with both of you, yes, I’m sorry,” he now addresses the shop owner, “do you maybe have some flags regarding non-conforming gender identities?”

The shop owner happily involves Cas in a discussion about different gender identities, leading him into the back of his shop, while Sam and Dean look at the flags already displayed.

“I think I could use the bisexual one,” Sam muses. “I’ve always thought gender to be kind of irrelevant.”

“You w-w—WHAT?” Dean splutters. This is kind of brand new world shaking information and Sam is just casually noting it _like it’s no big deal but it’s a fucking big deal okay_.

“Yeah, I mean, all my partners so far have been female, but you should never exclude someone from your options, right? And some men are, objectively speaking, good-looking.”

Sam now unfolds one of the bisexual flags and looks at it in it’s entirety. Dean is floored – his younger brother, his fucking younger brother, just basically outed himself to him. It makes him feel uneasy and kind of like a douche because it could be so easy to do it, too, but now a minute or so has already passed and _this was your moment, good job, now you can’t possibly say anything, ever_.

“Give me that!” he finally snaps and snatches the flag out of Sam’s hands. “You are holding it upside down. This is not how do you this.”

“Woah, easy. Why do you even know the right order of the colors?!”

“Jesus, Sammy, _everyone_ knows that. Get some education in LGBT culture. You really want to wear that flag if you don’t even know the colors?”

He is met with an ice cold, unforgiving stare. “You know, if you want to have the bisexual flag, you could have just asked.”

“That – that’s not the _point_! It’s about _respect_!”

Cas is still rummaging through the back of the shop and Sam is throwing a long glance at the door leading to the storage room before turning back to his older brother.

“ _Dean, you know you don’t have to actually come out to me, right?_ ”

For the second time of the day, Dean’s brain fries, but for entirely different reasons than just two hours ago.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he croaks, but he can instantly hear that this is the worst lie he has ever uttered out loud.

“Dean, I _know_ that you’ve probably had sex with” – he scrunches his nose – “more dudes than I want to imagine. It’s okay.”

“You – _w_ _hy have you never said anything_?”

“It’s not like you ever said something either, you know.”

Dean sighs. His whole life, basically, for the last 20 years, has been leading up to the moment, but it’s nothing like he imagined. This wasn’t the Winchester way. Things were never this easy. Things were depressing, heartbreaking and your family was there to hurt you, not tell you things about you that you wanted to hide for half of your life and tell you that _this is all totally okay we still love you_.

He wants to add something, but Cas beats them to it. With a warning glance somewhere in Sam’s general direction he hopes that he has shut up his obnoxious brother long enough for Dean to sort his thoughts out, because he kind of can’t handle another coming out (or rather, _getting-dragged-out_ ), especially not to the angel he’s kind of in love with.

“I got an agender flag!” Cas proclaims proudly. “While it doesn’t convey the exact feelings of my original gender I think it is a close enough estimate. This shop truly has a great display of pride flags, even for gender identities like gender fluid or genderqueer. I didn’t know some of the words myself. It’s truly impressive.”

“That’s… great, Cas,” Dean smiles weakly and pushes the bisexual flag back into Sam’s hands. “Here, wear it this side up. Don’t fuck up again.”

Cas is already tying the flag around his neck. “What’s your flag, Dean?” he asks curiously.

“We actually both chose the bisexual flag,” Sam replies instead. “We’re Bi-Bros.”

“Eww, Sammy. That sounds like we’re fucking.”

Sam shrugs. “Well you knowsome people already think that. Remember Becky Rosen?”

Cas shoots them a confused glare, but ultimately decides that he doesn’t actually want to know about this and walks away to pay for this flag.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The Pride parade passes by in a blur. They’ve managed to get very close to the start of the parade and are proudly – or at least, Sam and Cas are – holding their self-made posters. Dean has never felt more humiliated in his life. There’s a list somewhere in his mind with ‘weird stuff he had to do for a hunt’ and this is probably going right on the podium.

They’ve managed to attracted some listeners, but a lot of people are flat out ignoring them and the ones that do interact them usually just scream “BABADOOK GOT US BABASHOOK” and go their own way. Dean’s reasonably sure this won’t work at all.

After they’ve marched about half the way, Sam leans over to them and screams over the crowd “I’m going to go in the back, maybe I can interact with a few more people, okay? You stay put!” He doesn’t even wait for an answer, he just leaves them and vanishes into the crowd.

“I think he doesn’t want to be seen with me,” Cas says earnestly while looking down at himself. He had decided to buy the striped dress as well as some rainbow colored tights and looks hilariously cute but also very ridiculous. “I think he’s just jealous because the tights weren’t available in his size.”

Dean snorts as he realizes Cas has just made a joke. “Yeah, that’s probably it,” he replies. “They don’t make tights in moose sizes – hey, look at that, there are a few Babadooks.”

A group of three people, two women and a men, are showing up near them, all three of them dressed in completely black and cosplaying the monster with an uncanny level for detail. For a moment, it almost seems like they were actual manifestations of the Tulpa, but then they laugh and the weird spell vanishes.

“Let’s talk to them,” Cas says and takes Dean’s hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, leading him to the three friends.

The thing is, it’s not like Cas has never done that. Actually, he does that disturbingly often because apparently he doesn’t trust Dean to actually do what he’s been told and so has to somehow make sure that he follows. But now, Dean kind of doesn’t want Cas to stop holding his hand like he usually does as soon as they’re at their destination.

So, because this day has been the weirdest so far in his life (and it probably maybe also beats the day they accidentally started the Apocalypse), he strengthens his grip when they’re arriving. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t do anything beyond not letting go, but it’s good. It’s terrifying, but good. Really sweaty, but good.

“Hey, have you heard of our Lord and Saviour, the Babadook?” Cas asks, apparently completely unfazed by Dean’s reluctance to let go, and making an impressive impersonation of every fanatic Christian Dean has ever encountered.

Thankfully, the trio picks up on Cas’ humor and indulges in Cas rant about the peaceful nature of the Babadook and how he will ultimately save the LGBT community and with that, of course, the world, because the whole world should be a friendly place for LGBT people.

“I just love the fact that it all actually kind of fits,” the guy explains. “One of his trademark verdicts is actually ‘you can’t get rid of the Babadook’, and I think that just fits so well to the queer community because no matter what they throw at us, we still somehow manage to rise.”

They engage in a few more discussions about the community and how awesome it is that this kind of memes can make such a huge impact (Dean shudders at that, if they _knew_ ) until ultimately, the topic of their relationship comes up. Dean wants to speak up, bullshit his way through, but Cas beats him to it and offers an honest – or at least, as honest as can get – description of their relationship.

“Well, I basically pulled Dean out of hell a few years ago,” he explains. “We’ve been through a few rough times together and recently he has been there for me a lot. We live together with his brother because we have kind of an autonomous business together.”

One of the girls swoons. “Oh gosh, this sounds like true love!”

“Oh, yes, I love Dean very much,” Cas confirms. Dean’s heart skips a beat. “But I don’t want to be in a poly-amorous relationship with him and his brother,” he adds as an afterthought, probably remembering the awkward conversation earlier.

“Eww, dude. Is that something you’re into?” the other girl asks Dean.

“ _N- no! Jesus, why does everyone think I’m fucking my brother?!_ ”

“I don’t think you’re fucking your brother,” Cas replies. “I would know, we spent every night together.”

“Aww, you’re such a cute couple,” the guy says. “Can I get a pic with you two?”

“Actually, we’re –”

Dean interrupts him. “Very happy to do that. Right, Cas?”

And it’s basically now or never. Okay, maybe not now or never, because this is what Dean has told himself time and time again – basically every time he had come back from a one-night stand with a dude to face Sam, or every time he had accidentally forgot to clear his history after looking at some gay porn on Sam’s notebook, or every fucking time he had touched Cas _and it had been a lot of times because Dean has become kind of a master at_ _accidentally not-accidentally touching Cas_ – but it’s basically just a paraphrase for: it’s happening now and he just hopes that he doesn’t lose courage along the way.

Because he’s now letting go of Cas’ hand to slip an arm around his waist and lean onto his shoulder, positioning himself between the trio with the posters rising up above them and trying his best so smile as if his whole world is not just coming apart at the seams. It’s now or never, but it also could very well be a _now and then never again_ , so Dean is understandably upset.

Cas doesn’t give any indication how he feels about this until the friends are finished with their little photo shoot, at which point he just looks at Dean confusedly. The three Babadooks are leaving now and although they’re still amidst a huge crowd, it suddenly feels like Dean’s world has narrowed down to a few points: Cas, for example, in his navy blue dress looking fucking adorable, and the fact that he still has his arm around the ex-angel’s waist. And finally the fact that he basically just confessed his love to him ( _okay, maybe that thought’s a little over_ _-_ _dramatic, but Dean has never been good with words so this is as good a love confession as any_ ).

They look at each other for a long time. Around them people are paving a way around them but they don’t pay any attention to it.

“Dean,” Cas finally says. It’s not a question. “Is that flag a true indicator of your sexual orientation?”

This was the last sentence Dean had expected, but since today apparently is honesty day, he simply nods.

And then – then – then Cas kisses him. _He fucking kisses him._ Third time’s the charm apparently, because now something somewhere really deep in Dean’s brain fries and he doubts he’ll ever get even half of his brain capacity back.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been standing there, simply exploring each other’s mouths, but it’s apparently long enough for Sam to make his way up to them.

“So, I’ve talked to a few people,” he starts, completely ignoring the fact that Cas and Dean are playing an extremely intense game of tonsil hockey (it’s Pride, okay, Dean has seen some really sexual stuff during these parades, this is nothing, _nothing_ ). “I don’t think we can do anything better now, we either managed to confine the Babadook or not. We’ll see if it worked tomorrow. And oh, I’m moving into Cas’ motel room.”

“What would you want to move into my room?” Cas asks curiously. “I don’t want to share a bed with you.”

Sam snorts, and Dean laughs, and somehow, it’s all really cool and _so fucking easy_.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam _actually_ moves into Cas’ room, unceremoniously, but intent definitely clear, and only stops to tell Dean that he doesn’t care what they’re doing tonight as long as he gets his sleep. Dean kind of blushes at that because after all these years of thinking about what he could do to Cas actually having the _opportunity_ is kind of terrifying, but he manages his best Dean Winchester™ smile and somehow rambles a response about _how he can’t promise that because he’s such a good lover_ _._

It’s really embarrassing and Sam shouts “GROSS” before barricading himself in Cas’ old room, leaving Dean alone with Cas and thousands of thoughts racing through his head.

“Dean.” Cas comes up to him and Dean notices that he’s still standing at the door, the door handle in one hand, staring into the void. “Are you alright?”

“Um… yes?”

Cas sighs and cautiously takes Dean’s hand off the handle. “I’m unsure how to proceed,” he admits. “I want to say again that I love you very much, Dean, and I want a relationship with you in any way you want to.” He doesn’t let go of his hand and instead leads him to Dean’s bed, urging him to sit down but doesn't sit next to him.

That’s kind of unacceptable, so Dean pulls him down, too, and they’re sitting next to each other on the bed, somewhat silent, for a while just watching the setting sun outside their window.

“I also want to say that I would do lots of things with you,” Cas finally takes up his speech again. “Also, this would include very sexual things. If you want to.”

“Jesus, Cas –”

“Of course, I’d need your consent.”

“Dude, I kissed you in front of thousand people, do you honestly need more consent?” It’s kind of a joke and kind of not, but Cas apparently takes it very seriously.

“Kissing someone isn’t the same as having sexual relationships with a person. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Okay, Cas, as long as this page involves like, actual, I don’t know, at least some… _rubbing_ , I’m totally on the same page as you.”

Cas, the little fucker, actually smirks. “I think I’d do a lot more things with you than just ‘rubbing’, but it’s probably a good starting point.”

And with that, they’re kissing again. It’s good, really good, and Dean thinks with a pang of jealousy about the one time Cas actually had sex with April. Not wanting to lose a potential comparison to a fucking reaper of all things, he deepens the kiss and starts to loosely put his hands on Cas’ hips.

As a response, Cas pushes him down on the bed, half lying on top of him, and Dean can feel his erection grow very uncomfortably in the ridiculous overall he still is wearing.

“Cas,” he manages to press out. “Maybe we should get rid of these clothes first.” Reluctantly, he softly pushes Cas off of him.

“Hmm, you’re probably right.” Cas stands up from the bed and proceeds to undress. It’s not erotic, not in any kind of way, but it still makes Dean’s blood boil because he remembers the countless times he has seen Cas in various states of undress, but never like this, never with _intent_ , and also never with fucking rainbow tights _which shouldn’t be arousing but they somehow are_.

Dean rushes to get undressed too (it’s kind of a difficult task, overall and all, and the fact that Cas is watching him with hungry eyes isn’t helping) and as soon as he’s naked, Cas all but jumps back on top of him.

“Is there anything specific you want to do?” he asks while tracing Dean’s lips with his pointer finger. Reflexively, Dean stretches out his tongue and licks the finger tip. Curiously, Cas pushes the finger a little bit further, just between the lips, gracing his teeth, and Dean responds by leaning forward a bit and putting all of it in his mouth.

Cas smiles darkly. “I see. Is this something you’d wish to continue with a different body part?”

“Please, Cas, talk dirty to me,” Dean tries to say snippy but it kind of fails because he is simultaneously sucking on the finger of said person and it sounds more like _pwea Ca tak ditty to me_ and it’s not very graceful.

 _The thing is_ , he’d love to suck Cas’ dick, but it’s also something he never asked for (the dudes he had sex with had always just assumed he wanted to, so it had never been a problem, okay?).

Cas adds another finger, and Dean’s saliva starts to slowly trickle out of his mouth. It’s mesmerizing and reminds Dean of the times he had actually honest to god managed to deep throat a dick. Just the thought of it makes Dean shudder and desperately seek friction between his and Cas’ body.

They both suck in a sharp breath when their dicks start sliding together, a mix of pre-come and sweat already providing enough lube to make it feel really, really good, and Cas works up a similar rhythm with the two fingers in Dean’s mouth. They stay like that for a while, sliding against each other, Dean desperately sucking at Cas’ fingers while Cas is watching him intently, until Cas slides a hand between their bellies and grips both their dicks and starts fisting them and Dean has to close his eyes _because it’s so fucking good_.

“Cas,” he gasps. Something in his voice must have startled Cas because he immediately slips his fingers out of Dean’s mouth, watching the streaks of saliva running down his fingers with fascination.

“I thought we… wanted to continue this with… other body parts.” Dean really hopes he gets his point across. It’s kind of hard to concentrate because Cas has now let go of his own dick in favor of stroking only Dean’s dick with a kind of devotion he has rarely ever experienced, sometimes slowing down, touching the tip of his dick almost teasingly before speeding up so fast Dean’s worried he’d finish like this in, maybe, 30 seconds, flat.

“What kind of body part did you have in mind?” And Cas is really doing it, this fucker, he’s really going to have to spell it out for him.

“I’m talking about your dick you… dick,” he spits out. Cas laughs and sits back, stradling Dean’s hips, still not letting go of Dean’s dick. Stroking, slowly stroking, then speeding up again, and Dean’s worry that he is going to finish very soon is turning into an actual honest-to-god possibility, so he quickly grabs Cas’ hand and stills it.

“You want to do it now?” Cas asks and suddenly, he sounds completely earnest, almost hesitating. “I could, you know, get you off first.”

“Dude, if you let me suck your dick I’ll probably come from that alone,” Dean mumbles and immediately hopes Cas hasn’t heard it. But of course, there’s no such luck. Cas smirks with new found confidence and he slowly starts to climb off of Dean in order to lie down on the bed, but Dean stops him and instead guides him to sit on the edge of the bed. He really, really hopes he doesn’t have to say anything else, but apparently Cas isn’t unfazed by this, too, if his heavy breathing and his almost completely blown pupils are anything to go by.

Dean climbs on the floor (and he really hopes no one uses this moment to spy through the window because he’s in no condition to get up and close the blinds, not with a dick almost directly in front of him) and takes a deep breath. He can do this, he thinks. Show him what some really good sex looks like, fuck April, fuck this reaper, fuck Angels in general, except this one, of course, although he would really like to fuck him, kind of.

When he first takes the tip of Cas’ dick in his mouth, Cas groans and Dean’s heart skips a beat. Cas’ voice itself has filled his spank bank more often than he wants to admit, but actually hearing him groan – oh Jesus. He’s not sure how long he will last, even if he would refrain from touching himself for the duration of the blowjob.

Confidently, Dean takes more in his mouth. He’s actually really proud that he’s good at this kind of stuff, usually managing to deep throat practically everything, and this time it’s no exception. With a slow slide, he takes all of Cas’ dick in and swallows heavily.

Cas’ hips are bucking and he’s groaning again and Dean’s only a little bit feeling like he has to puke, so all in all, it’s pretty exciting. He picks up the pace, at first wanting to control the rhythm because it’s actually been a while since he’s done this. Cas is writhing under him, desperately trying to keep his hips still while gripping everything of Dean he can find (and when he tucks Dean’s hair, Dean starts to groan too, because this is one of the things he can always, _always_ get off to).

Dean’s desperately seeking friction himself, torn between wanting to get off as soon as he can and dragging this out because this is a whole new experience for him, finally having sex with the person he’s actually in love with, _everything’s so fucking intense_ , until he can’t take it anymore and takes his own dick in his hand, letting go of Cas’ dick which earns him an exasperated huff and a grumbled “Dean...”.

“Cas,” he says hoarsely. “Cas, can you just, you know…” _What a great time to be shy, Dean thinks, good fucking job, this is actually –_

“Should I move my hips?” Cas finished his thoughts for him and tilts his head.

“If you want to call it that.”

“I could also say ‘fuck your mouth’, would that be the more appropriate term?” And it’s not like Dean’s still a horny teenager, but at this moment he fears that he will never be able to hear the word _appropriate_ again without popping an instant boner. He simply nods and proceeds to take Cas’ dick in his mouth again, all the while stroking along his own length.

When he’s fully inside him again, Cas slowly starts to move his hips, wary at first, but slow and steady with more confidence, until he’s really, truly fucking into Dean’s mouth while gripping his hair and _it’s so fucking hot and if he’s not careful he’s going to come before Cas and this would be totally embarrassing, wouldn’t it_ , and he’s so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t hear Cas’ warning until it’s already too late and Cas is coming inside his mouth.

That settles it for Dean, though, so he speeds up his pace while trying to swallow every little drop Cas is currently pumping into his throat, and finally comes only a few moments later with a groan.

“Apologies,” Cas starts when he puts his dick out of Dean’s mouth. “I tried to warn you, but it’s kind of difficult to actually follow through. It was… kind of overwhelming.”

“No shit,” Dean laughs. “It’s alright, man, this ain’t the first time I swallowed.” He tries to stand up and groans, now from the pain in his knees after staying on the hard wooden floor for too long. His hand is sticky from come and he sighs.

“I need a shower.”

“I’ll come with you – I mean, if you want.”

And that this is even a question Cas has to ask is absurd. Dean suddenly feels the need to settle everything, _once and for all_ , so he gathers up all his courage and forces the words out of his mouth: “Casiloveyou.” and just like that it’s done.

It doesn’t have the desired effect. “Dean, I’m very flattered and you know I love you too, but I just wanted to take a shower with you.”

“Well, it’s a metaphor,” Dean answers grumpily. “That I want to take every shower for the rest of my life with you, or whatever.” Post-orgasmic haze and a certain kind of tiredness apparently aren’t a good combination, because he adds: “I would also watch snails in a tiny snail museum with you. As long as we’re not in a relationship with Sam.”

Cas squints his eyes. “Let’s just go take a shower.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The next morning, they sleep through every possible alarm and Dean only wakes up when Sam is knocking at the door furiously.

Cas is still sleeping like an angel (no pun intended), so Dean hastily scrambles out of the bed, puts on his boxer shorts and opens the door.

“What, Sammy?” he asks. He’s still tired – they have talked about stuff for probably 4 hours or more after their shower and he needs his sleep.

“Urgh, could you at least open a window or something? It… smells.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” It’s probably true, but there’s no way Dean is going to acknowledge that. “What’s the matter, another victim?”

“Not quite,” Sam answers, still staying at the edge of the door, not sure if he actually wanted to come in. “Hey, is Cas naked?”

Dean looks back to the bed where Cas is still sleeping under loads at blankets, not disturbed at all by the conversation going on. “Probably,” he answers.

“Okay. Great. I’ll just stay here then. It’s already 12 o’clock, by the way, so maybe you want to wake up Cas. We can leave soon. No one’s dead, all is fine, _but_ ” – and with that, Sam stars to grin – “I’ve just been at the police station and apparently a Mrs. Larson has reported that a ‘huge black man’ has broken into her house to tell her that encouraging her pupils to bully the gay couple at school is bad. She turned herself in and wanted to see if there is any way for her to get legally punished.”

“Oh, so the Babadook is now _actually_ erasing people’s homophobia? That’s nice. It seems like you _really_ can’t get rid of the Babadook.”

“Yeah. Maybe we should think about making more Tulpas, end some wars, spread some feminism.”

“And possibly kill people in the process? That’s my boy. Okay, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll try to wake up this pile of blankets.”

Sam just grunts and leaves for his own room while Dean makes his way to the bed, gently shaking Cas.

“…Whaaaat,” Cas finally grumbles.

“Rise and shine, buddy, we can leave, case is closed.

Still with his eyes closed, Cas slowly sits up. “I’m not your buddy anymore,” he says. “Or at least I hope you don’t do the same things you did to me last night to everyone of your buddies.”

Dean blushes. “Yeah, well, _no_ … but what should I call you instead?”

“I think Cas is fine.”

Oh. Okay then.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And if, back at the Bunker, Cas takes out his badge while they’re watching Guardians of the Galaxy to look at it with amazement and some kind of realization dawning on his face, that only makes Dean fall even more in love with him, _who could fucking blame him_.

**Author's Note:**

> you can also visit me on tumblr: mijrake.tumblr.com


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